S 2039 
H8 
886 
opy 1 



■.<?«<r...^«<^\-if 



S^S8^«» 



mw^ p^^p 









n^ 



^s^. 



laeiiwiiitgfeil 



^^ 



THOMAS ROWELL 'HOYT, 



inUFTT^^ MTf I 



(i<jo<lnesH sliiiit's on all (Teation, 
From the Heavens to the sod, 
Let man be happv in his station. 
Living on tlie Love of Gn(L 



COFFSTOWN, N. H.: 
PUULISIIKD BY THE AUTHOR. 



JUM 



24 18' 



HOYT'S HARP. 



POETICAL WORKS 



THOMAS ROWELL HOYT. 



THE BARD OF TIBBETTS HILL. 




Goodness shines on all creat 
From the Heavens to the so 
Let man be happy in his sta 
Livisig on the Love of God. 



GOFFSTOWN, N. H. : 
PUBLISHED BY IHE AUTHOR. 

1886. 






Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1885, by 

THOMAS K. HOYT, 
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, 



INTRODUCTION. 

The author, in presenting this little Book of Poems 
to the public, does not pretend to say they are per- 
fect ; imperfection adheres to every work of man; 
yet he has the pleasure to know that many of his 
poems have been warmly received and highly ad- 
mired by a generous public. He is willing they be 
judged by their merits. He would say to you, read 
them, these creations, the out-pouring of thought- 
messengers of the mind. Here bidding them go into 
the wide world, trusting they will be able to make 
their own mark, 

Time may roll on, years pass by, 
Truth and her words can never die. 

and if they shall kindle the fires of love, warm the 
soul with goodness, store the mind with knowledge, 
help make man a wiser and happier being, they will 
have performed their duty ; completed the grand pur- 
pose of their author, who cannot but feel a pleasure 
in the thought of having added something to increase 
the well-being and happiness of his fellow man, 

The Author. 

GoFFSTowN, N. H., June, 1886. 
3 



POETICAL WORKS OF 



PROEM. 



The Poet here presents his card, 
And with it his kind regard — 
His Highlv^nd Farm he loves to till, 
Lives at Goftstown, on Tibbetts' HilL 

At this Uome, this sweet retreat, 
His friends and neighbors love to meet. 
He does not much incline to roam, 
Most happy with \i\^ friends at home» 

With hopes to reach that land of love 
In the heavens with God above, 
With all the ^f?<3</ of every where, 
The loys of heaven forever share. 
Yours truly, 

Thomas R. Hoyt« 



THOMAS ». HOYT. 

MORNING. 

We hail with joy the summer's morn, 

Herald of the new-born day, 
Worthy the Poet's sweetest song, 

Thy visit short, how bright thy stay. 

All around is gay and lovely, 
Birds awake with lively notes. 

The fields look dressed superbly, 

Opening flowers how bright their looks. 

Bright Sol comes up to warm the earth. 
To light the world with golden rays, 

To give to buds and plants their birth, 
And measure out to men the days. 

At this time O how deligtful 

l-s the prospect all around. 
In the morning all seems joyful, 

Most happy season to be found. 

CALIFORNIA. 

Hail, California, what a state! 
Grown up like magic, large and great. 
Land rich in gold, good soil to plant 
Goes far ahead of "Aladdin's l^mp." 

Many are moving, going ofl". 
Some do go west and some go south. 
Rich California if I can see 
Would be the very land for me. 



POETICAL WORKS OF 

Her healthy climate, her sweet air. 
Would be a prize I'd wish to share. 
Her soil, her fruits, her mines in store, 
Man could scarcely wish for more. 

Yes, California, what a land ! 
How many blessings thou command. 
A proud province, young in birth, 
Ranks with the richest states of earth. 

LONG AGO. 

In years gone by, yes it was so, 

There was a place I loved to gp. 

It was to me pleasure and sport 

To take a ride to the seaport. 

It was my pleasure, yea my lot. 

To visit oft this hallowed spot. 

My friends were kind and good to me, 

Enjoying life all full of glee. 

This town was not so very gay, 

Yet 'twas a place I loved to stay, 

To see the ocean and the beach, 

And those fine views within my reach. 

In this old town, this sweet retreat, 

Here I loved my friend to meet. 

Seemed a place away from harms, 

A lovely home, all full of charms. 

I a youth, a roving boy, 

Full of hopes and filled with joy. 



THOMAS R. HOYT. 

Ah these were h^ppy days to me, 
Full of romance and full of glee. 
Then there was a lovely maid 
Who lived here without parade, 
Her ways were modest and so kind. 
So fine a girl 'twas hard to find. 
All full of fun, all joy and life, 
She just the maiden for a wife. 
So sweet and kind, I have been told, 
More to be sought than shining gold. 
***** 

Now those days have passed away, 
And those scenes that looked so gay. 
There is a truth we learn to know 
That all is changing here below. 
Ah these were days of long ago. 
Pleasure seemed to freely flow. 
Age now comes to change the scene. 
Makes life appear a passing dream. 
Old time rolls on, we have been told, 
And all of us are growing old. 
No matter if 'tis you or me, 
It is a fact that's hard to see. 



POETICAL WORKS OF 

THE SEASONS. 

Let me awake to sing the seasons, 
These grand divisions of the year. 

Cheerful tell of them with reason, 
Each in its turn with joy appears. 

Spring with her huds and opening flowers 
Presents to us a pleasing look, 

With her rain and blooming bowers. 
Show the first page of nature's book. 

Summer beams with joy and pleasure. 
Full with flowers and fields of grain, 

The growing crops show us a treasure, 
A high rank does she maintain. 

Autu7nn comes to crown the year 
With sunny days and fruits of worth. 

With golden harvests doth appear 
The richest season of the earth. 

Winter^ cold with ice, and snow. 

Comes to seal and close the year. 
It hath joys, we call them so, 

And some of them we hold quite dear. 



MUSINGS. 

Father of all, great God of Love, 

Who formed the earth, the moon, the sun, 
Built the spheres and worlds above, 

And bid them in their orbits run. 



THOMAS R. IIOYT. 

Hung the heavens with stars, bright pearls, 
Such works so great none can rehearse. 

These stars the suns of other worlds, 
Boundless and great the universe. 

Long time ago the world begun. 
And longer, too, since it was made. 

Long time before our year one, 

These deep foundations here were laid. 

We have a date away 'long back, 
But that is modern we might say, 

The earth's formation leaves a track, 
That of a very early day. 

The first of all cannot define, 

Don't say the Bible is untrue. 
Commencement, then, we surely find. 

But then, again, the world was'nt new. 

We don't know all, and never will. 
Nor when the world was first begun. 

If we our Maker's purpose fill. 
Shall act the noble part of man. 

Great God of all, of every where. 

In every age and every clime, 
"Thy will be done", let be my prayer, 

Thy love and wisdom no bounds define. 



lO POETICAL WORKS OF 

DAVID DANDY'S RIDE OUT. 

David Dandy set out to ride, 
And take his sweetheart by his side. 
Goes to a stable, calls the boss, 
Says he, '*I want your smartest horse." 
A horse and carriage gay and fine, 
At his command was brought in time, 
As they get in begins to smile 
And starts ahead in city style. 
The day was fair, the road was wide. 
They looked gay like man and bride. 
As they went on past many a farm, 
Seemed to enjoy it to a charm. 
Their horse went finely, I should tell, 
He seemed to drive it very well. 
Spurs him on, feels proud to find 
Those on the road left far behind. 
A fellow comes up feeling good, 
He thought he'd pass them on the road, 
David cries out, "you can't go by, 
My horse is smart, no use to try." 
The fellow took but little heed, 
Resolved to try his horse's speed, 
He drove ahead with steady rein. 
Wished to see whose horse would gain. 
They went on for quite a spell. 
Which was ahead 'twas hard to tell. 
One thing sure, that I do know, 
Their horses did most awfully go. 



THOMAS R. HOYT. 

David out straight with hands and feet 
Had made his mind not to be beat, 
Catches the whip, puts on the lash, 
The coop goes over all to smash. 
This pair were but little hurt, 
Tho* badly daubed with mud and dirt. 
He crawls up, and sure he found 
Their fixings scattered all around. 
Lady goes to the nearest house 
And keeps as still as any mouse. 
He looks around to take a view 
To see what's best for him to do, 
A jolly farmer comes along, 
Says he, "what's up? what's going on?" 
The Dandy speaks out rather cross, 
"You see I've got an ugly horse. 
Now just look here, I would bet. 
Such a team ain't fit to let. 
Cannot find much fault with me, 
Just let the things lie where they be." 
"Well, well," the farmer now replied, 
Guess you don't know how to drive, 
Now here, my lad, get in with me, 
The horse will lead that I can see." 
On they go to the stable door 
That he had lately left before. 
He came back in such a pet, 
The 'ostlers they began to fret. 
The carriage gone, O where is that. 



12 POETICAL WORKS OF 

Pants all mud and where's your hat? 
You'd looked wild if you'd been there 
To hear the 'ostlers rip and swear. 
After awhile they did talk low, 
What they said I do not know. 
Money it took to pay the scot, 
But the amount I have forgot. 
The tale goes on with funny stuff. 
Perhaps you think I've told enough, 
If that's the case I will be clear, 
Say good bye and leave off here. 



PLEASANT SCENES. 

I love to see the rising sun 

When first it comes into sight, 

Showing that the day's begun 
And ' tis the end of night. 

I like to climb the mountain's brow 
When all the sky is clear, 

And view the scenes that lay below 
So lovely doth appear. 

I like to see the smiling flowers, 
Dress'd in their tints so gay. 

Sit beneath the shady bowers 
As the moments pass away. 

I love to muse on the thrush's song, 
And hear the robins sing, 



THOMAS R. HOYT. I3 

Watch close the bees as they pass on 
And home their honey bring. 

I like to hear the mountain rill 

Roll down its rugged way, 
To ponds and lakes below to fill 

And watch the silver spray. 

I love to see the busy ants, 

Much wisdom do they show, 
Working to supply their wants 

As they pass to and fro. 

I love to see the squirrel run 

And jump from tree to tree. 
To gather nuts, to him but fun 

To hide and store away. 

I like to see those grand old pines 

Whose tops are towering high, 
Their twigs so fine with beauty shine 

Delightful to the eye. 

The scene around most lovely looks, 

Quite cheering to my gaze, 
The trees, the plants and running brooks 

Help fill my soul with praise. 



TAKE CARE, OR GRANDPA'S ADVICE. 
' Twas when I was a little one, 

My Grandpa in his chair. 
Says he, "Come here, my little son, 

I want you to take care. 



14 POETICAL WORKS OF 

Look, my boy, you see that axe 
So shining, bright and fair. 

Just step one side and not get cut, 
Remember and take care. 

You see that spot of shining ice, 
There 's water under there, 

Don't go on it and tumble in, 
I say 3'ou should take care. 

You see that box and hear that hum, 
The bees are under there. 

Don't go to meddle and get stung, 
Remember and take care. 

So all along the path of life, 

Falsely much looks fair, 
You'll find it best heed this advice 

Remember and take care." 



ODE TO THE OCEAN. 

I love to view the grand old ocean. 
See it wash the sandy shore. 

Its waters in continual motion 

Was since Adam and long before. 

Pleasant to ride on thy waters. 
When the sea is still and calm. 

Sky is clear and nothing bothers, 
Surely then thou hast a charm. 



THOMAS R. HOYT. 1 5 

When the breezes rest and quiet, 

Love to stray upon the strand. 
This a place I love to be at,* 

Shows a picture rich and grand. 

Love to see the ships in motion, 

Gliding o'er the briny deep, 
Bringing stores from all the nations, 

For us all to use and keep. 

On this great highway of nations, 
A vast amount of shipping's done, 

Freighting stores to all the stations, 
Carrying out and bringing home. 

Those blessed with wealth and leisure 

Love to sail upon thy main, 
They go out for health and pleasure 

While others go for gold and gain. 

Oft thy waves are high and dashing, 
Pelting hard the rock-bound shore, 

O'er the beach thy waters splashing. 
We often hear the ocean's roar. 

What a vast grand sea of waters 

In one continual ceaseless move, 
Filling us with awe and wonder 

Of the Creator, God, above. 



POETICAL WORKS OF 

LINES ON THE NEW YEAR, 1S79. 

Old moving time has brought us round 
To another season that is near. 

With joy we hail the welcome sound 
And haste to greet the new-born year. 

Much has been said, much been sung, 
In the twelve months just gone by. 

Year seventy-eight is passed and gone, 
Now seventy-nine the herald's cry. 

With good crops the year has teemed, 
Peace and plenty greet our ear. 

Heaven's blessings on us beamed, 
Filling us with thoughts most dear. 

Let wisdom fair mark our toad, 
In patience and in hope we toil, 

With the blessings of our God, 
Success is ours, we cannot fail. 

We turn our eyes to seventy-nine. 
Just starting on his new career, 

May all the path of virtue find. 

Be richly blessed the coming year. 



HAPPINESS. 



"Happiness is our being, end and aim," 
So sung the poet of great fame. 



THOMAS R. HOYT. 1 7 

What seutime.it more wise or true. 
Could he or anyone give you? 
This lovely friend above all price. 
We hold so dear, so rich and nice. 
Would dwell with us within our reach, 
Obey the laws that wisdom teach. 
She's rarely bought with gold or wealth, 
But allied to content and health. 
We seek to tind her, sure we could. 
Among the dwellings of the o^ood. 
I think I heard the muses tell. 
With vain and proud she don't much dwell. 
Where noise and discord bear full sway, 
In such a home don't choose to stay. 
Her home is with forgiving love. 
This heavenly oflspring from above. 
Her charms so good, O let me praise, 
And wish her with me all 7?iy days. 



HOME. 

The robin builds her cosv nest 
Amongst the spreading trees. 

This a home fur her to rest 
To enjoy and take her ease. 

We have a place that we love best, 
How plainly is this shown, 

A sweet retreat of quiet rest, 
Our own, our native home, 

(2; 



1 8 POETICAL WORKS OF 

This seems to us a hallowed spot. 
Most pleasant to ns known. 

However changing be our lot, 
Most highly prize our home. 

For here we feel a quiet rest, 

Amidst the toils of life. 
This a spot that does seem blessed, 

Away from barm and strife. 

And here we love to spend our days^ 

Our checkered life to share, 
Here happv in a thousand ways, 
All full of joy and care. 

And as the seasons roll their rounds 
Let me not choose to roam. 

No sweeter joys are ever found 
Than dwell around sweet home. 



WAR. 

If anything we should abhor 
It is the work of wicked war. 
There's nothing here that can be worse. 
Nothing can show a greater curse. 
Strange it seems men won't do right, 
But kill and slay and savage fight, 
Letting their angry passions rise 
To do a work good men despise. 
Prate loud of honor and renown, 



THOMAS R. HOYT. 1 9 

Here if s i\\\ a hollow, empty sound. 

The savage loves it with delight, 

None but a savage calls it right. 

What a scene of bleak disgust. 

Some do it 'cause they think they must. 

Some do to their names enroll, 

If they destroy their life and souk 

This is tlie game of briUal kings. 

Most damnable of earthl}"- things. 

And rulers bad go in the wake. 

Who vainiy think can piorit make. 

Put on thy buckler and thy shield, 

And hurry to the battle field. 

These grounds survey with horrid dread. 

To view the dying and the dead. 

The fray is passed, the battle's o'er. 

Men lay dying in their gore. 

O what a scene here meets the eye. 

Noise and confusion swell the cry. 

We turn with haste to leave the scene, 

To wash our hands from carnage clean. 

Sickens our soul with sin and doubt. 

To see what men have been about. 

Strange that men, all distant brothers, 

vShould strive so hard to destroy each other. 

The victors and the vanquished too 

Are held the same in virtue's view. 

We see the priest, calls himself good, 

Join in these scenes of war and blood. 



20 POETICAL WORKS OF 

Yea how can he stand up and pray 
When from Christ so far away. 
They all pretend to know the word, 
Teach the precepts of our Lord. 
Do they obey Christ's teachings then 
Who tells ''peace on earth good will to man?" 
The Quaker Friends fighting abhor, 
In every shape condemn all war. 
They hold it in their creed and plan 
To assist and love their fellow man. 
W^hat teacher in this age of light, 
Presumes to say that war is right? 
True wisdom and forgiving love 
Flow from that fountain, Gcc/, above. 
O man desist from error's ways, 
Do some good act worthy of praise- 
Christ taught his men the path of ])eace. 
To love one another and increase. 
Time is coming, soon be that day, 
War and its weapons be wiped away. 
Peace reign triumphant over sin, 
This world be worth a livinsr in. 



DOLLAR KING, OR THE MIGHTY 
DOLLAR. 

Hear this tale the muse would sing : 
The Yankees seem to have a king, 
The politician, priest and scholar, 
Obedient bow to the mighty dollar. 



THOMAS R. HOYT. 21 

The day be first came on his throne, 
I rather think is now unknown. 
Gained his power by slow degrees 
And rules his subjects with all ease. 

How oft have we been kindly told 
VVe should not be ruled by gold ! 
It is a fact we must confess 
Controls the people, sways the press. 

We look around upon the world, 
See how many moved and many whirled. 
Slaves we are to his mighty power, 
Who wields the sceptre of the hour. 

Be not surprised should I tell you 
Has ruled the state and nation too. 
Don't call me wild if I should say 
His power increases every day. 

We boast our rights and tell how free 

Sure badly blinded cannot see. 

It looks our aim and only care 

To serve this king, his bounty share. 

His power corrupts the men of state, 
Makes men small who should'be great. 
If men were wise and judgment sound 
Would keep his power within the bound. 

This is indeed a sorry thing. 
We should control this tyrant king, 
Then we could be more pure and just, 
More happy live, in Goodness trust. 



22 POETICAL WORKS OF 

GAZADO^S TALE, A LOVE STORY IN 
THE DAYS OF AULD LANG SYNE. 

Gazado once was asked to tell, 
Give a short history of his days. 

If this you would rernember well, 
Now attend and hear what he says. 

I can remember, long ago, 

Ah ! when I was a little boy. 
My mother rocked me to and fro. 

Pleased me with some simple toy. 

How pleasant then those sunny days, 
They I thought would always last. 

Sweet pleasure came in many ways, 
Now those youthful days are past. 

Old time is ever moving on, 

Antl reason points us out the way. 

How many pleasures past and gone, 

The hours of youth how brief their stay. 

I then grew up as others grow, 
Thought myself a handsome boy, 

Save then I did but little know, 
My head all full of love and joy. 

I saw a girl of much beauty, 

So she seemed to look to me. 
To gain her love I thought my duty. 

And happy should forever be. 



THOMAS R. HOYT. 33 

My mind was centered on a wife, 

My thoughts would lead no other way, 

My only care to ^ain this bride 

And marry her. I here should say 

She seemed a type of perfection, 

Was all I could hope or wish. 
Pleased was I with this selection, 

A goJden prize I should not miss. 

So soon I saw another girl, 

Rich and looked to me more fair. 
She set my head all in a whirl. 

I was perplexed, I do declare. 

How I should gain this second lady, 

Sally I wanted you must know. 
Things looked a little shady, 

The question was what I should do. 

Mused on and kept a-thinking, 

Hoping something good would come, 

' Spite of all my hopes and blinking, 
The first seemed to me the one. 

One that I should love and marry. 

And ever own her as my wife. 
On a choice we often tarry. 

The common course of human life. 

At this time comes up sweet Susy, 
Here with the rest she took my mind, 

I was almost growing crazy, 

I much desired some peace to find. 



24 POETICAL WORKS OF 

Looked to gain some information. 
Find out the course I should pursue. 

Was truly in a botheration. 
Not knowing fully what to do. 

Soon made my mind to journey off, 
And try my luck with all the rest^ 

I shaped my course to the South, 
That seemed to suit my fancy be&t. 

Here in a large and busy town, 

I set myself at honest work. 
Soon gained money and renown. 

As time sped on and seemed short, 

I soon forgot my Suke and Sail, 
As other objects took my mind. 

All seemed to go completely well 
To calm and cheer my busy mind. 

Here with girls I often sported, 

So many sure I hardly know 
Just the number there I courted, 

I have forgot so long ago. 

Days and weeks rolled swiftly on, 
Sweet happiness was all around, 

I often think of those years gone, 

'' Those old gay times" how sweet I found. 

I went back to my native land, 

Settled myself upon a farm, 
Finished the trade with my first love. 

She well pleased me to a charm. 



THOMAS R. HOYT. 25 

So soon at last I married her, 

She was a kind, a loving wile, 
With peace and plenty, nought to mar, 

We always lived a happy life. 

You now have heard my lengthy yarn. 
Of girls and times and how I wed, 

If out of it some good can learn, 
For telling you I 'm fully paid. 



THANKSGIVING DAY. 

Thanksgiving Day of Pilgrim birth, 
A day of joy, a day of mirth, 
A day of praise and thankful hearts, 
Pervades the state in all its parts. 

This is set down a hallowed day. 
Little used for work or play, 
The people go to greet their friends, 
And to the joys of life attend. 

This is indeed a grateful day, 
Much goods the rich should give away. 
To feed the hungr}', clothe the poor, 
Let none go empty from thy door. 

Let all unite in grateful praise. 
The song of joy to heaven raise, 
To the great Author of all good, 
Feel truly thankful as we should. 



26 POETICAL WORKS OF 



MOLL DORY; OR HOW HE WON HER. 

It is said that the heiress Argenette one day asked Homast, the 
bard, to write her a poem, saying it might be on whatever subject 
he chose, whereupon he gave her "Moll Dory." She was so much 
taken with the sentiment and lines it kindled her love for the bard» 
and she offered him her hand in marriage, saying she would act the 
part of "Moll Dory" if he would consent to be the farmer, William 
Dell. "Agreed," said the poet, "and may we never need a prompt- 
er to tell us our duty." History goes on and tells ua they were 
married, lived a long life of prosperity, not less happy than the joy- 
ful characters they so readily assumed to represent. 

You ask me to write a poem. 

How shall I talk? what shall I say? 
If the Muse won't set me going, 

As well might throw my pen away. 

But if I find her in good mood, 

With her kind aid an easy task. 
She '11 guide my pen to something good. 

Most anything that I might ask. 

Now, suppose you want a story, 
Something to cheer up your mind, 

We'll write the love of Miss Moll Dory, 
As sweet a girl as you can find. 

This lovely maid of youth and beauty, 

In our town she used to dwell, 
Her highest pride, to do her duty, 

And all the world she treated well. 

Manners modest, kind, becoming, 
Livelv actions, with good health, 



THOMAS R. HOYT. 2^ 

She a lady of good learning. 
Add to this a store of wealth. 

'Tis no wonder she was courted 

By the handsome, rich and fiur, 
O'er the world she was escorted — 

Of attendants had her share. 

She had suitors by the dozen, 

She was loved all o'er the land, 
Many wished to be her cousin, 

Many sighed to gain her hand. 

Her spirit was to treat all kindly, 

Use all around with due respect, 
She had a beau she loved finely, 

One her fanc)- did select. 

This indeed a worthy choice, 

Of one she fondly loved well, 
At his good luck she would rejoice, 

Perhaps his name I ought not tell. 

But I will say as much as this, 

Was truly kind and noble, too. 
He always wore the smile of bliss, 

An honest course he did pursue. 

Was a farmer by profession. 

Not inclined to range and roam. 
Owned a farm in his possession, 

It was a sweet and lovelv home. 



28 POETICAL WORKS OF 

Early up to work and duty, 

Joy for him to plough and farm, 

Growing crops to him a beauty. 
Nothing had so sweet a charm. 

When these two were here united, 
Agreed to walk the rounds of life, 

With each other felt delighted, 
None so happy as man and wife. 

It's common here the curtain drops, 
Hides all future from our view, 

I think I hear you say don't stop. 
Go on and tell the story through. 

Their wedding was a day of pleasure 

To the people all around, 
All enjoved it without measure, 

No happier time could there be found. 

These the folks for good commimion, 
Best of the story here will tell, 

A noble boy blessed their union. 
Later years a lovely girl. 

And their walk through life was pleasant, 
In the varied months and days, 

Actions right which need no comment, 
A joyful life of love and praise. 

Now we've told you all the stor}''. 
Which you may^remember^well, 

How she that^was^the girl Moll Dory, 
Wife of the farmer, William Dell. 



THOMAS R. HOYT. 29 

PISCATAQUOG VALLEY FAIR. 

A POEM WRITTEN FOR THE FAIR, HELD SEPT. 24, 1879. 

Elail noble fanners to this treat, 
True sons of worth we love to meet ; 
The Poet here, feels proud to say 
This fair looks fine in a prosperous way. 

In this lovely vale, amid the hills, 
Watered by sprinp;s and a thousand rills, 
Just north this spot, with trees agog, 
Rolls the Redman's brook, the Piscataquog. 

At the south the Uncanoonucs rise, 
Tops high up, towering to the skies. 
Just above, Goftstown Village stands, 
Long noted for her sash and blinds. 

At the east, a few miles below, 
The waters o( proud Merrimack flow. 
On tlie river banks, I should remark, 
Sleeps Bennington's hero, Gen'l. Stark. 

Long years ago, how memories cluster. 
This lot was used for GofTstown Muster. 
Ah ! muster then was a noted day, 
Its charms and follies, all passed away. 

Old moving time, new things produce, 
We trust it used for a better use ; 
So now today, here as elsewhere, 
These grounds are devoted to a fair. 



30 POETICAL WORKS OF 

The farmers catcli the joyful sound, 
Come from the country all around. 
Bringing their crops of giant size, 
To beat their neighbors, grow more wise. 

Here is stock, most every grade, 
So large and slick, old times thev shade. 
wSo much is here upon the ground 
We'll take a walk and ramble round. 

Cattle large, with hogs and sheep, 
See horses too, that's hard to beat, 
And on the benches, in the pens. 
The coops are all tilled up with hens. 

We'll just step in this splendid hall, 
The Yankee wants to see it all, 
Go all around, see what we find, 
For that's the nature of mankind. 

A table of fruit, so full, so fair, 
Is seldom found, go anywhere. 
Yes, look it over, what a treat, 
So rich and large, it's hard to beat. 

Over in the other hall. 
Rugs and flowers, great and small, 
So many things take long to tell, 
Yes, the tent 's all filled up well. 

Potatoes, pumpkins, wheat and corn, 
These long rich benches do adorn. 
So many things, I hardly know. 
But on the whole, a splendid show. 



THOMAS R. HOYT. 3 1 

Each exhibitor feels impressed 
That his stock is much the best, 
Watching all with anxious eyes 
To see who's lucky, wins the prize. 

Dunbartoii's team, dressed up gay, 
Has come and makes quite a display. 
In this gay tent their ladies ride, 
And grangers claim it as their pride. 

Farming was different, all do know 
With our fathers years ago. 
The land was good, a virgin soil, 
The yield was great amid their toil. 

The countr}'' then was wild and new, 
They seemed to know just what to do, 
And though tlieir tools were not the best, 
They enjoyed life and did seem blessed. 

Improvement now comes to our aid, 
Machines of everj^ kind are made, 
To ease our labor on every hand, 
And help us cultivate the land. 

Great Cincinnatus, we are told, 
Delighted much the plough to hold. 
Great China's chief, her emperor king. 
Holds the plough, yes every spring. 

Our wise men, must call them great, 
Led our armies, ruled our State. 
Great Washington and Jackson, too. 
Did each a farme'rs life pursue. 



32 POETICAL WORKS OF 

What more fine, delightful round, 
Than in the path of farmers found. 
Away from tumult, noisy strife, 
How sweet the joys of a farmer's life. 

He is contented — happy — free, 

A life of pleasure all agree ; 

What nobler class can there be found, 

Than those who plough and till the ground. 

The mechanic too, I'd proudly name, 
Justly entitled to praise and fame ; 
How much we owe his works and skill. 
His virtues told would a volume fill. 

The fair shows a full success. 

Here's Chamberlen with his printing press; 

Finest machine upon the ground. 

He prints off cards to pass around. 

The band of players standing near 
Discourse sweet music to the ear. 
A wide awake, sweet-playing band 
As can be found in Hampshire land. 

The ladies, too, have come up here 
With faces bright we love to cheer, 
Bringing their offerings of worth and skill, 
The great grand circle help to fill. 

I would be brief, not talk to long, 
Here say to the farmers, go on, go on. 
Improve your lands, great crops you raise. 
May heaven bless you all your days. 



THOMAS R. HOYT, 33 

AUTUMN, 

O, sweet Autumn, I do love thee 

For thy fair and sunny d;<ys, 
For the blessings thou givest to me, 

I would shout a song of praise ; 
O thou sweet and lovely season, 

Thou hast come to crown tlie )'ear, 
Man come forth with joy and reason, 

Singing carols loud and clear. 

Thou art clad in worth and beaut}^, 

What more pleasing to behold, 
The harvest season claims our dutv, 

To gather crops more rich than gold ; 
In th-e sunny days of Autumn, 

Sweet to ramble o'er the earth. 
Loaded orchards, love towalk there. 

Tasting fruits of richest worth. 

Ripened fruits of earth are plenty 

At this season of the year, 
Should fill our cabins that are empty, 

Lay up a store 'gainst want appear ; 
Autumn now like all before her. 

Will fill her space and soon be gone, 
Will not stop a day to bother. 

Moving time will carry her cm. 

(3; 



J4 POETICAL WORKS OF 

The scenes before us are dissolving'y 

Teaching us great nature's hiws. 
All is changing, all is moving, 

Nothing acts without a cause ; 
The book of nature all before us, 

Wide spread out before our view. 
Come join and help us sing the chorus, 

God is in the seasons too. 

O this rich and joyful season. 

Thine the hours we hold most dear, 
We could wish with much good reason, 

Thy days might last through all the year 
But with nature be contented, 

As all is wisely ordered here. 
Do no act to be lamented. 

Love all the seasons of the vear. 



MYTHELOR, OR THE MISSION OF MAN. 

A LEGEND. 

A worthy sage as I've been told, 
Sent out his son to talk and teach ; 

Accept no money, take no gold, 

Don't want such trash within your reach. 

Go thou, Mythelor, among the throng, 
Pour forth thy fair enchanting lays, 

Tune thy sweet harp both loud and strong. 
To fill the world with love and praise. 



THOMAS R. HOIT. 3c; 

Go tell the world all that thou can. 

Yes, my son, thou noble youth, 
Go tell the ways and works of man. 

But never vary from the truth. 

Take not pride and sin to bother. 

As many have unwisely done, 
Go teach each man to love his Mak^er^ 

Assist and help his fellow-man. 

The son starts on his mission bold^ 

Thinks it a duty he should do. 
Goes to teach as he^s been told. 

In all his acts aims to be true. 

To be great we would appear, 

Man wants the world to call him wise. 

While little else than shadows here. 
Though cannot see it with our eyes. 

Here we look with little pleasure 

On the wayward acts of man, 
He looks short in his best measure. 

Count him all the good we can. 

We study hard to wisdom find. 

Tell the world how much we've done, 

And only find that we are blind, 

Near to the bound where we begun. 

Man is prone to follow folly, 

She allures him in her ways, 
Takes him in she does, by golly, 

And for his conduct dearly pays. 



36 POETICAL WORKS OF 

He is ever learnino: wisdom, 
Seldom gets his lessons well, 

To virtue's call don't care to listen, 
Why it's so I cannot tell. 

Man boasts much of his religion, 
His own way right, no other view, 

Full of pride and superstition, 
He asks you to believe its true. 

Of how much worth is that religion, 
Made of selfish forms and creeds? 

How can it better man's condition, 

Give him that joy his soul most needs? 

Christ's mission was of truth and beauty, 
Full of wisdom, kindness, love, 

Teaching man to do his duty. 
And guide to his home above. 

These are truths of richest worth. 
Come to the fount and thou believe 

That God is good in all His works, 
His blessings freely to receive. 

We look around on human nature. 

Study to learn all we can ; 
A scene that is quite amusing, 

To see the changing shifts of man. 

Men are different in their dealings, 
No two here found just alike. 

Not the same in looks or feelings, 
Each one thinks his own way right. 



THOMAS R. HOYT. . 37 

Thou should be kind unto thy neighbor, 

Always aim to use him well, 
To treat all fair be thine endeavor, 

A better course I cannot tell. 

Man labors hard to fill his space, 

Of wealth he wants the largest store, 

Havino^ a plenty in his race, 

His cry the same, O give me more. 

I love to tell of honest men, 

And sing their actions in my lays. 

To the world great blessings been, 
To guide man upward in his ways. 

Honest, happy and contented. 

The world to him looks bright and fair, 
Lives at peace with ail his kindred, 

Joy siu'rounds him everywhere. 

The boy is happy with his rattle. 

Man with his titles proud the same, 
Little difference in their value. 

Both are toys of different name. 

The good doctor let me notice. 
In doing good he spends his days. 

Gains much knowledge by his practice. 
Who more worthy of our praise. 

I love to look upon the farmer. 

See him plow and plant his ground. 

To heaven trusts his care and labor, 
Till the harvest does come round. 



3S POETrCAI. WORKS OF 

She is honest, will not cheat him. 
Give him crops a store of vvealtb^ 

Will fill up his m-easures heaping, 
Giving him the widest: breadth. 

Good mechanic we should praise him> 
Sound his virtues o*er the land. 

Use our etibrts to assist him. 

Love and respect he does command. 

Joy and pletisure in his labors. 

He works to beautify the earth ; 
He and the farmer are joint neighborsv 
They the men of lichest worth. 

The man of money is common place^ 
The miser is selfish and is small. 

He looks on others not as good, 
Of goodness shows the least of all. 

Ye men of wealth, of money plenty, 
Freely give to the honest poor, 

Let no one from thee go emptv\ 
Who art worthy to share thy store- 

What j^hall I s-ay of politicians? 

Count them gamblers, little worthy 
They oft h'e and deceive you. 

Among the refuge of the earth. 

Yet there are men of sterling worth, 
I would not censure or would blame. 

Stand fiir among the good of earth, 
Their name& high on the roll of faraer. 



THOMAS R. HOYT. 39 

The great statesman let me say, 
Contends for just and equal laws, 

His actions shine as briglit as day, 
He pleads aright a worthy cause. 

And also here the patriot too. 

Who loves his country all his days, 

Will do the most for me and you, 
To make us happy in all ways. 

Here amongst the rest of people, 

The idler and deceitful man. 
All his days are full of trouble, 

Would seem best he had not been. 

Then there is the wicked warrior. 
Hands all stained with human blood, 

His wicked work cause death and sorrow, 
Long should have gone before the flood. 

The man of peace looks up brightl}', 

Love and kindness fill his path, 
All his aim to act uprightly, 

What a wealth he surely hath. 

He is rich above all counting, 

Treasures vast flow in his ways, 
All obstacles of life surmounting, 

A round of pleasure all his days. 

What's the history of the nations? 

Wars, fighting, changing crowns, 
These they seemed to much delight in, 

Upbuilding kingdoms, pulling down. 



POETICAL WORKS OF 

Should I tell you of their rulers, 
Ambiguous dogs 'tis very plain^ 

Ignorant and rlesigiilng foolers, 

Leaving their subjects to complain. 

Nations in debt, republics poor, 

When rulers, dishonest act like knaves, 

Were made so by foolish wars. 

It's then their people become slaves^. 

We see repubWcs grow and flourish, 

United, happy, rich and free, 
Qtiarrel and divided, soon they perish, 

That's their fate we're left to see. 

As with man it^'s so with nations. 

Justice and peace should guide the way. 

Men should act honest in all stations. 
To })rolong a prosperous day. 

Let dim dark enor fall to earth, 
To rise no more in future time, 

Let wisdom with her golden wreath, 

Our days, our weeks, our years entwine- 

The future to us is unknown, 

What she holds we cannot see. 
Today is all can- call our own, 

Tomorrow belongs to another day- 
All is right within the circle, 

A)l move on in different ways. 
Life seems to us a complex puzzle. 

Find it so most all our days-. 



THOMAS H. HOYT. 

O what a lovely world is this, 

That God hns made for erring man. 

Strange it is he cannot see it, 

And strive to act the best he can. 

Let us seek the path of duty, 

God is here, is everywhere, 
All around is life and beauty, 

What a boon for man to share. 

We should all be up and doing, 

Acting our part on life's great stage, 

And an honest course pursuing, 
Making this a golden age. 

When we have filled up our measure, 

All the sands of life are run. 
May we look with joy and pleasure. 

On the acts and deeds we've done. 

Looking to that land of bliss, 

Full of hope, a soul of love, 
To a better world than this, 

High in the heavens with God above. 

Man having here performed liis mission, 
Well acted life in all its ways, 

Heaven his home in full fruition. 
Through the endless round of days. 

Let me progress and travel on, 

My carrying ship the wings of love, 
Ye gods guide safe my little bark, 
To the joyful realms above. 



42 POETICAJL WORKS OF 

Meets Gabriel at the gate long been, 
I do much need a guide you see ; 

"O yes, fair youth, thou may come in, 
And freely will I wait on thee." 

Thrice happy in this blessed abode, 
And naught is here but love and joy, 

None can enter but the good, 
Nothing our happiness destroy. 

The honest miller is up here, 

And quite at home he seems to be, 

Wearing a light upon his face, 
Just as happy as he can be. 

And here's the beggar on his stafi", 
The heralds say he has been just, 

On earth the rich at him did laugh, 
Before the rich man comes here first. 

I would enquire if thou'll attend, 

Who that so blest with joy and mirth, 

O that's the good Samaritan, 

Christ's best neighbor when on earth. 

Lawyer and priest at last come in, 
How altered do they now appear ; 

Having got rid their load of sin, 

Have found the path that leads up here. 

Show me earth's rulers and her kings. 

I would inquire and where they be. 
Way over there, poor v/orthless things, 

Of small account as you may see. 



THOMAS R. JIOYT. 43 

1 have a wish to see the Jews, 
That old sect so long have heen, 

They had so many creeds and views, 
'Twas long before they could come in. 

But now they have become all new, 
And worship freely with the rest; 

Just step this way and take a view, 

They with the Gentiles here are blest. 

Who on that hill of silver wood, 

In that bright land of shining glory. 

They are the wise, the great and good, 
All full of love most holy. 

What is that afar off yonder, 

I dimly see in empty space, 
That the world you needn't wonder, 

Called man's temporary dwelling place? 

The poet, here my good old friend, 
And with him thou let me stay ; 

'T would break a law I could not mend, 
God's laws are just, we must obey. 

One question more, allow me to ask, 

O tell me that I will be done. 
What man should do, what be his task, 

To this heaven of bliss to come. 

His days be filled with noble deeds. 
His will and purpose to do right, 

Throw to the winds the sects and creeds. 
And let God's love burn pure and bright. 



44 POETICAL WORKS OF 

Ye men of earth sliould love the law, 
Should practice virtue and be just, 

The Golden Rule Christ left to guide you, 
In God's love and goodness trust. 

Thanks on thanks how can I pay thee, 
For the kindness thou hast done, 

Thou f<o home and teach thy fellows, 
Tell in heaven there's only One. 

God is One in will and purpose, 
Rules all beings great and small, 

All his acts are wisdom, goodness, 
Rules supremely, God is all. 

O how hi^h am I delighted, 
I seem full of joy and mirth — 

Thou go home and teach thy brothers, 
Mercury will take thee back to earth. 

Must I return to earth again, 

How shall I there spend out my days? 

Appear once more 'mongst busy men. 
To reap their censure and their praise. 

And is it so I'm back again. 

It seems to me a kind of birrh ; 
Can it be true I'm freed from sin. 

And dwelling here on earth. 

He now returns to his worthy sire, 

Who cries aloud, "Son hast thou come !' 

God bless my boy, lay down thy lyre. 
It is with joy — come welcome home. 



TPIOMAS R. HOYT. 45 

FRED FARLO, THE FARMER'S BOY. 

A TALE OF REAL LIFE. 

I'll tell you of a nirmer's boy, 
Rich in hopes, all full of joy ; 
This boy, the hero of my song — 
We'll watch him as he goes along, 
This boy was kind, was generous, just ; 
In perfect goodness put his trust ; 
And though a youth, quite young in age, 
He showed the wisdom of a sage. 

Like other boys he went to school ; 
His lessons showed he was no fool ; 
With knowledge good he stored his mind, 
And left a score of boys behind. 
He loved tC) work upon the farm ; 
Above all trades it had a charm, 
And when he rambled o'er the lot 
It seemed to him a hallowed spot. 

This farmer's boy, his name was Fred, 

A handsome youth who was well bred, 

He was beloved by all the van, ; 

In years grew up a noble man ; 

He looked around to find a wife, 

A help and blessing to his life ; 

He wants a mate that's kind and true, 

That girl he finds — they call her Sue. 



46 POETICAL WORKS OF^ 

They soon were married, we are told ; 

Each loved the other more than gold, 

This flame burned bright through all their life, 

A charm to Fred and Sue his wife. 

They go on to a lovely farm 

With neat new house and tidy barn ; 

Their minds vv^ere made to live in peace, 

Enjoy sweet life, and their wealth increase. 

Through all the varied hours of day 
Their labor sweet, their work but play, 
And when night came for man to rest 
They looked a couple highly blest ; 
They were up in early morn ; 
Sue to her milking, Fred to his corn. 
They were industrious, happy, free — 
Just the folks we love to see. 

Their farm life now well begun, 
They are blest with a lovely son ; 
Time rolls on and a few years after 
Are favored with a lovely daughter. 
He loved to farm, to plant, to sow, 
His grain to reap, his grass to mow. 
O what a pleasure, he would say, 
To gather in the new mown hay. 

In the spring he plows his ground. 
Sows and gathers as months roll round ; 
His labors blest with crops in store, 
To sell to the rich and give to the poor. 



THOMAS R. TIOYT. 47 

How to be liappy this pair have found — 
Kind friends and neighbors all around ; 
Thougli Fred is no wizard, Sue no witch, 
It is a met they have grown rich. 

We now will bid this pair good bye, 
Hoping that other boys will try 
To be as good and kind as Fred, 
And on mankind their blessings shed. 
Happy, rich, with children and wife, 
And all the comforts of this life ; 
With all the blessings man can share 
The curtain falls: we leave them there. 



RUELLER, THE ESQUIRE'S SON. 

A LEGENDARY TALE OF LONG YEARS AGO. 

In New Hampshire State, near town of Weare, 

Long years ago there lived an esquire ; 
Location pleasant, buildings great, 

And here he owned a large estate. 
I'll tell you now the way in M^hich 

The 'squire got so very rich : 
Beyond his fields in a little wood. 

Some Fairies dwelt; he'd done them good. 

They told him where that he might dig, 
And find a treasure, large and big. 

He went, and dug as he was told. 
And found a larg^e amount of gold. 



4S pob:tical works of 

His wealth so large he wants no more. 
And part of that he gave the poor. 

The ruling passion of his mind 
Was to be generous and be kind. 

The 'Squire had an only son — 

A handsome youth — ^just twenty-one, 
Looking about to find a wife 

To go with him the round of life. 
So <))) b.e goes to find a bride 

Whom he can love with honest pride. 
A pleasant girl with generous views 

Would be the one that he would choose. 

He goes to see a handsome gal, 

Her name I think they called it Sal ; 
She lived a wild and idle life, 

Not the one for him a wife. 
Off he starts to a distant town, 

Calls to see Miss Hannah Brown. 
Dressed finely, with much wealth endowed, 

She was too haughty and too proud. 

He goes to court the Hillson girl, 

And what they said I cannot tell ; 
But something funny, I suppose, 

For that's the way the story goes. 
He calls around to see Miss Fan : 

She was engaged to another man. 
Then drops in to see Miss Duke : 

She was rich, but didn't suit. 



THOMAS K. HOYTx 

Now strikes he out and i^oes to see 

That pretty maiden, Lucy Lee. 
She told him frankly he needn't tarry. 

As she was not disposed to marry. 
Now on a journey to his home. 

Meets by the way Miss Mary Cone : 
A playmate of his early days, 

vShe looked quite charming to his gaxe. 

Says he. a-smiling in idle gfee^ 

''Mary, will you marry me?" 
"^If you're in earnest in what you sa>, 

I answer *yes', if fooling- *nay\" 
Her answer frank, in a pleasant way. 

He hardly knew just what to say. 
''I ask your pardon ; will make amends, 

Hoping we be better friends." 

I should here in ray story tell. 

Thus Maiy loved Ruelier welL 
He now resolved to end his strife, 

And take this maiden for a wife. 
The marriage now was to be made 

Publicly, t5 seal the trade. 
The fixings were so rich and tall. 

It seemed to go ahead of all. 

The priest came up with pleasant looks. 
He had the papers and his books. 

It was his purpose he had come, 
To join two willing hearts ii?. one- 

(4; 



49 



50 POETICAL WORKS OF 

The service was well performed 
Amid the halls richly adorned. 

The bride and groom were costly dressed. 
And bowed obedient to be blest. 

They all sat down to a sumptuous feast, 

From the greatest to the least ; 
Plenty enough and some to spare ; 

Was on the whole a grand alTair, 
The best of spirits freely flowed 

Plentifully around the board. 
Some drank whiskey, some good wine, 

For all were bound to have a time. 

So in order came the dance, 

Where beaux and belles could have a prance. 
They had a grand and noble ball ; 

It seemed a blessing to them all. 
The hour is late ; time to retire ; 

We'll bid good-night to the worthy 'Squire ^ 
To the lovely bride^ the joyful son. 

The company all ; my tale is done. 



NEIGHBORS OF THE LOWLANDS. 

Come up, Sahoco, to the feast, 

I have a tale I want to tell, 
Funny stufTto say the least, 

Perhaps you'll like it very well. 

Some like a story, some a songy 
All wish to hear what's going an. 



THOMAS R. HOYT. 5 1 

Captain Brown g^ot awful mad 

With his neighbor Johnny Goft", 

Becifuse he would not say he's glad 

Old Susan Cate had moved off. 

With some people 'tis their way, 
Think all should see the same as they. 

Old Susan's hens were very bad, 

W^hich often bothered Captain Brown, 
That was the reason he was glad 
This old jade had left the town. 

Glad was he that she had gone, 
And not much likely to return. 

They soon began to twit and fling. 

And what they said they didn't care, 
I thought a row would soon begin, 

You'd thought so, to hear them swear. 
Men in a passion often use 
The vilest words that they can choose. 

Brown called Goff a simple fool, 

Goff said to Brown he had no wit; 
They were often told to keep cool. 
But neither one would 3^ield a bit. 

Each was bound to have his say. 
Which caused the rumpus here to-day. 

They talked so hard and very loud 
All could hear them, far and nigh. 

Their noise had gathered quite a crowd, 
And both sung out, ''You lie ; you lie.'' 



POETICAL WORKS OF 

'Tis not the way that men should do. 
But quite a dirterent course pursue- 

Thev stood and jawed quite a spell, 
Much they said, 'twas silly chaff. 
Some of their talk not fit to tell. 
But sure it made the people laugh. 

To hear those people stand and jaw 
When neither one could tell what for. 

Then steps up young Billy Boust, 

He told them he would put them through ; 
I thought they'd knock him off the roost 
In spite of all that I could do. 

Some think it great, and rather bright 
To crowd them&elves into a fight. 

Me had put in his ugly blab. 

To raise them up in higher tone- 
Should known enough to hold his gab 
And let those angry foo!&, alone. 

The neighbors here did plainly know 
He did it all to make a show. 

Old Miss Gossip, she was there. 

Their angry words pleased her well, 
>She gathered all with greatest care ; 
She loved a bag of news to tell. 

Yes, that was so, 'twas her delight^ 
To talk and tattle day and night- 
It grew so warm and hot at last, 
Keopy said they'd said enough. 



THOMAS R. HOYT- 53 

He'd put them in the lobby fast, 
Heard any more their wicked stutf. 

He talked with reason and so clear 
These neighbors now began to fear. 

Keopy told them very plain 

It was an outrage and a sin. 
Such foolish talk- O what a shame I 
He never wished to hear again. 
So now attend, Keopy cries, 
I want you to be good and wise. 

They soon began to cool and calm, 

And made excuses very free. 
Said they meant no hurt or harm. 
And sorry they should disagree. 

The sky around looked clear and bright. 
As both seemed anxious to do right. 

They talked friendly as they spoke. 

Each telling how to make amends, 
Funny it was to hear them joke, 

See them go home such cozy friends I 
In the path of life you'll find 
This a picture of part mankind. 

OLD MISS RAGHEL. 

Rachel, Rachel, who is Rachel? 

She be my Aunt, let me suppose ; 
Here she comes with her big satchel : 

See how brisk and firm she ^oes. 



54 POETICAL WORKS OF 

Welcome, welcome old Miss Rachel, 

How many hours I've spent with you ; 
In my early days, how watchful, 

Rocked me in the cradle, too. 
^ I love to have her come and see us — 

Talk and laugh, and vent her joys ; 
O, the rich and costly presents. 

She would brino: to give us boys. 
vShe will tell us something funny — 

Gets rested, and puts up her staffs ; 
She is rich — don't want for money, 

Has more than she can spend by half. 
Much with us she was a stopping ; 

Helped our folks the cooking do. 
Everytime she went a shopping, 

Would always bring me something new. 

vShe would bring me home some candy, 

That I always liked to see ; 
Bought whatever else come handv, 

She seemed to think so much of me. 

O, I can't forget her goodness, 
Ah, this old Lady that is now ; 

She was always full of kindness, 
Ever ready to help and do. 

Rachel very free and generous ; 

Much to the poor did give away. 
Her good friends are all around us. 

And she so pleasant in her wa\-. 



THOMAS R. HOYT. 55 

Hurry, hurry, old Miss Rachel ; 

Were the words I used to say, 
When she went to fetch my playthings. 

How sweet the moments of that day. 

In that day, how bright and finely. 
All the moments seemed to run ; 

All my playmates, gay and lively. 
And all our world was full of fun. 

Now I have grown up a man, 

With a farm, a store of wealth ; 
If I was poor, more joyful, then 

I was so happy in myself. 

Never can forget Miss Rachel ; 

Almost as soon forget myself. 
Would be hard to find her equal. 

She seemed to me a store of wealth. 

Peace go with this good old lady. 

Always loved her, from a boy ; 
May none of her days be shady, 

But all of them be full of joy. 



A SCHOOL. 



An original poem read at the close of the School Meeting on Tibbetfs 
Hill, on the 13th of March, 1880, by the author. 

A school to teach the children well, 
Is what I am about to tell ; 
Just the date I do not know, 
We'll call it fifty years ago. 



56 POETICAL WORKS OB 

Master goes in to commence his schoo? ; 
Some scholars bright, some almost fool r. 
Two dozen here, it may be more. 
All in confusion on the floor. 

He tells them all they should obey^ 
Mind every word he has to say ; 
They e^'e him close, yea, every one. 
As he cries out, now school's begun. 

He says to all, with cheerful looks, 
I want you to study all your books. 
Not waste your time in idle play, 
But get your lessons every day. 

Boys, come out I I'll hear 3'ou read, 

This is a branch you'll silways need ; 

I want your mind to rightly train, 

At head commence — now speak out plain. 

Some read fast, some read slow, 
Some read loud, and some read low. 
Some read badly, some very well, 
►Some in a way I cannot tell. 

If you have read your lesson through. 
Each to his seat may quickly go, • 
1 want you all to study well, 
So all the answers you can telL 
I'll now attend to the grammar class ; 
Bring out your books, I'll hear you parse : 
Tell me the verbs, the moods and tense. 
How we should talk to make s:ood sense. 



THOMAS R. IIOYT. 57 

Explain the adjectives, you know, 
The nouns and the pronouns, too, 
Plainly all the genders tell ; 
For a new class did very well. 

Master, will you mend my pen? 
Cries out a boy to teacher then ; 
Master with knife cuts oft' the quill ; 
Small boys there, you must keep still. 

Bill to the teacher now has come, 
You show me how to do this sum ; 
Two figures wrong I here can see, 
vSet down fifteen, divide by three. 

Ben, with your writing now proceed ; 
The second class come out and read ; 
Some half a dozen, perhaps more, 
Parade themselves out on the floor. 

Richard Brown, what makes you stare? 
What mischief are you into there? 
What is up with idle Sue? 
Must I go there and punish you? 

Master wants to know the time. 
Pulls out his watch, so nice and fine, 
Now thinks his time is rather slow. 
Looks again, his watch don't go. 

Puts it safe in his pocket vest. 
Intends to give it time to rest ; 
Looks at the sun, as well he may, 
To study out the time of day. 



58 POETICAL WORKS OF 

The teacher calls to Jeremiah, 
To-rnorrow you may build the fire, 
And if the day is cold, or storm. 
Heat up the schoolhouse nice and warm. 

If you have got your lessons well 
You may now come out and spell, 
Well done, few words missed ; 
School is done, you are dismissed. 

The schools of fifty years ago 
Were about the same as they are now. 
Little diflerence in the main, 
Boys are boys, and girls the same. 

Should we here the schools compare 
Would find but little difference there. 
Gay houses now, and costly books, 
Might change the view in outward looks. 

A, B, C, we plainly know, 
Same as two thousand years ago. 
That is, they remain the same, 
Never changed their place or name. 

The figures, too, O they are such 
That two and two count just as much 
As they ever did, or ever will, 
When they do same places fill. 

And with the rest I here would say, 
Look to the morals of that day, 
Be truth and honesty the test, 
We 'd only show as second best. 



THOMAS R. HOYT. 59 

Yes, schools are blessings in our land, 
Should our highest hopes command, 
Should strive hard to them improve, 
And give to them our care and love. 

They help build up our land and state. 
Aid much our children to be great, 
Should be the pride of man and youth. 
They help teach us to know the truth. 



CHRISTMAS. 



Christmas all, a merry Christmas, 

To the great family of man, 
Nineteen hundred years — a little less. 

Since this day here first began ; 
Since that star of light appeared, 

To guide aright the shepherd band ; 
Since the world with Christ was cheered ; 

Since he taught '*Good will to men." 

Most glorious day of all the days. 

Our hearts should warm with ardent love, 
Our souls be full of love and praise 

To the author of all — to God above. 
What a joyful, happy season, 

Neighbors and friends, the world all o'er. 
Oh, let each man use his best reason ; 

Give gifts to feed and clothe the poor. 



Go rOETICAL WORKS OF 

Yes, give wide and free thy bounty. 

Those who fortune favors well ; 
Heaven guide us to our duty, 

Make ghid the souls around us dwell. 
This day let all look pretty, 

All feel as great and good as kings. 
Youth and age alike be happv. 

How many gifts this sweet day brings. 

And those gifts of love and friendship, 

Mementos of to-day and past, 
Treasures in the heart they lay up, 

Make bright our days, and long they last. 
Oh, bless the blessed Christmas eve. 

The center of our hopes on earth. 
Rich the blessings we receive, 

Christmas proclaims our Savior's birth. 



ADAM AND THE APPLE. 

In that good book that's very old, 
Adam eat the apple we are told. 
Eve, his partner, helped him to it. 
Or, 'tis said, he couldn't do it. 

What was its color, white or red. 
In the record there's nothing said ; 
But 'tis natural to suppose, 
Looked red and blushing, like the rose. 

Eve gave to Adam of this fruit, 
And his taste it seemed to suit. 



THOMAS R. HOYT. 

We do not read lie did complain. 
Other than showed a sense of shame. 

This is a type more plain to show 
To man what Adam did not know. 
And mysteries we often find 
Amongst the doin^^s of mankind. 

Various opinions do prevail 

Of the version of this tale. 

And Vv^e let the subject rest ; 

Vou can explain it as vou think best. 



THE WRITING PEN. 

"The pen is mightier than the sword/' 

It is in truth, upon my word ; 

Has done more good to noble man 

Than the sword has or ever can. 

The early history of the pen 

Comes from the goose and not the hen. 

Lung she kept it by her side. 

And often showed it with much pride. 

The quill long used by men to write, 

Hov/ many years cannot tell quite. 

Men took a thing of lesser grace 

And steel employed to take its place. 

Then again, if rightly told, 

Some made their writing-sticks of gold, 

Which answers well if not abused, 

And is a pen that's often used. 



62 POETICAL WORKS OF " 

I take up my writing pen, 
This willing servant of all men, 
■ Found ever ready at the task, 
To write such words my mind would ask 
What more potent than the pen. 
To make excitement amongst men? 
And who more active in the courts, 
In making records and reports. 
Thy province is all o'er the earth. 
And who is there can tell thy worth ? 
Thy praises loud 'low me to sing, 
For the rich blessings thou dost bring. 
When I am off and far away. 
Pen tells me what my friends would say. 
So I in turn take up the pen? 
And tell my thoughts and views to them. 
Think thou a moment, business men, 
What could we do without the pen. 
Would it not spoil our business quite, 
If it were so we could not write? 
The pen and t3''pe give us the news. 
Help scatter wide our thoughts and views. 
Most all the knowledge we possess 
Comes from the pen and printing press. 
How much we use it in our labors, 
Conversing with our distant neighbors. 
Used by the nations of the earth, 
A golden gem of richest worth. 



THOMAS R. HOYT. 63 

OLD TIMES. 

Let me go back to olden times, 

Tell of those scenes in humble rhymes ; 

Yes, to those clays of long ago. 

Things were different ; it was so ; 

Change, ever busy altering things, 

To us new objects brings : 

Some we call better, some the reverse ; 

None so stout to stav her course. 

Happiness in those days of yore 
Dwelt around each neighbor's door ; 
Man did not bow, obedient nod, 
And worship money as his god. 
Friends they had, and neighbors, too. 
Kind and generous, good and true. 
And friendship, too, I must declare, 
Was surely not a stranger there. 

Kind feelings with generous love 
Kept their minds far up above 
The sordid toys of Pride and Strife. 
They could enjoy the sweets of life. 
In those times of long ago 
Men were honest : ah, it was so : 
The rogue and villain were despised, 
And meanly looked on with all eyes. 

A neighbor could his neighbor trust ; 
His aim and purpose to be just. 



64 POETICAL WORKS OF 

It was his joy, his anxious care, 
In all his dealings to be fair ; 
Had not so many useless toys, 
But rich in comforts, real joys ; 
True happiness was felt and seen, 
And pride was banished off the scene. 
Their peace of mind, a happy feast, 
A kind of heaven, to say the least. 
Shall I not sing it in those lays, 
That those were truly happy days? 
O, what a joyful round of life, 
High up above the reach of strife, 
Where all was lovely — all pure bliss. 
Who could not love a world like this? 



NEWSBOY'S ADDRESS. 

TO THE PATRONS OF THE AMOSKEAG REPRESENTA- 
TIVE, 1840. 

I come to speak of what is past, 

And what there's going on — 
To tune my pipes, to blow my blast. 

And guess what is to come. 

Year eighteen hundred thirty nine, 

Like other years have gone. 
To number with past years.of time, 

And another year has come. 

We'll greet this year with open hand — 
The Yankees none need fear ; 



THOMAS R. HOYT. 65 

For while we live in Freedom's land, 
Wish all "A Happy New Year." 

The farmer I will notice first — 

He being my best friend — 
His calling honorable and just — 

On him we do depend. 

The Mechanic, too, should have a place 

High in my new year's song — 
His skill deserves our warmest praise — 

So here we pass along. 

These two, the proudest pillars are 

In freedom's fabric found. 
Should of the "honor" have a share, 

Through all the country round. 

Great are the changes that have been 

For this whole year or more, 
Since January last came in. 

Would count to many score. 

The speculation mists are past. 

That gambling, idle mean — 
People begin to see at last 

'Tis a delusive dream. 

This jack-a-lantern guide may go- 
It's done its woful harms ; 

People will not heed her now— 
She's lost her magic charms. 
(5) 



66 POETICAL WORKS OF 

The times are hard just now, we awn ; 

And money is scarce we know — 
Bnt better times are coming on 

In a few months or so. 

And as the seasons roll around^ 

Presenting- many beauties. 
Let us in wisdom's path be found 

Performing all our duties. 

A bounteous Heaven has filled our hearts. 
And led us through all mazes — 

Has blessed our commerce and our arts, 
For which we shout our praises. 

And as I must bid }ou adieu 

For these twelve months to come, 

I say, fair Virtue's path pursue, 
Heed this, and I am donCo- 



NEW YEAR'S ADDRESS FOR 1842, 

Once more I come to greet my friends, 
And o'er the globe my message send 
To tell the news, both far and near, 
And wish you all a Happy New Year I 

Year eighteen hundred fortv-one 
Has had its place — its course is run — 
And eighteen hundred forty-two 
In page of time now comes to view. 



THOMAS lU HOYT. 6^ 

The Farmer true, to him most dear — ■ 
We wish success through all the year — 
Plenty of crops to use mucI spare, 
To sell the rich and give the poor. 

Mechanics too, well claim our praise. 
Our houses they both frame and raise. 
Our implements make and repair — 
May heav'n's rich blessing be their share. 

The Press— my friends lend it your aid— 
The Printer should be promptly paid — 
invincible — Truth's noble shield. 
Most potent engine man can wield. 

If we look to Victoria's Court,, 

We see what Johnny BulFs about — 

To 'large his bounds, to increase his power. 

Build up the rich and grind the poor. 

What's going on in olden France? 
Has PhilHppe's horse began to prance r 
This ball of wind, 'tis all a blight— 
A few months more and "all is right." 
A Providence vi^ith guardian hand 
Has watched o'er American land. 
May Heaven still our course direct, 
And all our dearest rights protect. 
Woman fair — she claims our meed— 
The firmest friend in time of need — 
Love, beauty and virtue, her store, 
What could mortals wish for more ? 



6S ' POETICAL WORKS OF 

Here's a wish to the world around, 
That we in duty all be found, 
Doing all things rightly in their turn 
As long as the lamp of life shall burn, 



NEW YEAR'S ADDRESS 1843. 

Again I come — another year 
Has rolled around — a new one's near ; 
In season, too, I've got along 
To tell the folks what's going on. 
i\ccept ni}' hand, my thanks sincere. 
Wishing you all a happy new year ! 
And all the blessings man can know, 
To cheer his path of life below. 

Unroll my scroll. — Friends, now hail 
And you shall hear my year-spun tale. 
Where to begin I don't well know, 
But thoughts will give as they may flow. 
To the old year we'll bid adieu. 
And welcome in the coming new. 

W^elcome, ye Farmers, to our treat, 
Ye are the ones we gladly greet ; 
With open hearts, expanded views, 
The best companions we could choose. 
Mechanics, too, — I love the name — 
High eminence they justly claim. 
In frankness, too, they're prone to deal^ 



THOMAS R. HOYT. 60 

Who labor for their country's weal. 
The patriot, and tlie statesman too, 
Will find enough this year to do, 
To write, to reason, and to prate. 
And guide aright the helm of state. 
The Editors who wield the pen, 
Are not always the best of men ; 
And Preachers, too, I need not say, 
No better than they ought to be. 
The idle loafer, sauntering round, 
Out of employment he is found ; 
Pure happiness with him won't stay, 
He is the nuisance of the day. 
The "Miller" humbug now is past. 
It could at best but shortl}' last ; 
And those who in that scheme believed, 
Own that they have been deceived. 
And what will next enlist the mind, 
Cannot exactly be defined. 
But something foolish and untrue, 
Will be held up to public view. 

Our own America — happy land ! 
As a Republic may it stand, 
Its good be felt on every shore, 
Till time progressing is no more ! 
But many here there are on hand 
To go unto a distant land. 
It lies way ofl:^in the "far west," 
But those contented will do best. 



'JO POETICAL WORKS OF 

"•The people's friend — the tyrant's foe,'' 
On lis its blessings doth bestow. 
The PRESS — the star of every clime — 
May its bright light forever shine. 

The Beau is seeking out a wife. 
To spend with him the course of life. 
The Belle — ah ! she is seeking too, 
A husband that is just and true. 

Some here will princely fortunes make. 
Some men will spend their whole estate. 
While some grow rich and some grow poor. 
And some remain as they were before. 

Woman, the fairest, we would cheer. 
And wish her too a happy new year I 
K partner sure in Deity's plan — 
Woman — best gift of God to man. 

My honest wish, my fervent prayer. 
That God may crown the coming year 
With peace, with plenty, and with health. 
And much increase our stock of wealih. 



THE TIN PEDLER OF OLDEN TIME. 

I am a Tin pedler, the world I well use, 
Come join in the chorus, I love the sweet muse, 
I'm as proud as a prince, as happy as a king, 
When naught t^Ise to do, I leisurely sintx. 



THOMAS R. HOYT. 7 1 

How do you do, maim, sweet maiden so fair? 
I've come a great ways to sell you tin wave ; 
I've drove in the wet, the sunshine and shade — 
I knew if I saw you we couldn't but trade. 

There are Pedlers all 'round, with poor, fushy tin. 
Tell so many lies, 'tis an abominable sin ; 
But I was brought up a tin pedler from youth. 
And always was told to deal in the truth. 

Here's a new platter, some call it a pati, 
Made of cross tin, I'll warrant it to stand. 
It's soldered all round, its edges aie fast — 
I know it is good and forever will last. 

Here's a kettle that's made of the purest of brass. 
To boil up your clothes and boil down your sauce, 
You use it a day, you'll declare in a trice. 
You'd not be without it for double the price. 

Here are good pewter spoons, and some still lighter, 
The more they are used grow brighter and brighter, 
I'll warrant them to be the best of block-tin, 
And when they're worn out you can sell them again. 

Here's a tin kitchen to roast your fresh meat, 
To cook something good for your husband to eat ; 
A ladle to finish, a saucepan and skimmer. 
And a sounding horn too, to call him to dinner. 

Here are pots for your coffee, and pots for your tea, 
To cheer up your spirits and make you feel glee ; 



72 POETICAL WORKS OF 

A rattle and whistle, and many such toys. 
To please all the girls and tickle the boys. 

Lanterns and graters, I carry for the trade, 
Tho' on such kinds of ware there ain't nothing 
But I must be willing to please every man, [made 
And work off my tin ware, wherever I can. 

Here's a strainer, a new fashioned pail, 
Made upon honor, I know it can't fail ; 
Sold four hundred dozen, besides a half score. 
And if I'm not mistaken, shall sell many more. 

I carry matches, tho' all sell them higher, 
I bought them on purpose to kindle yourfire — 
A real convenience to get up in the night, 
To light your lamp, your cigar or your pipe. 

Here is a pint measure, a water-pot good, 

It ain't one-half that makes up our load, 

Large platters and basin's to place on your shelf — 

Just step on the wheel and look for yourself. 

My ware is all sound, I brought it afiir. 
All warranted to me, the best of tin ware, 
How that I bought it but very few know, 
And that is the reason I sell it so low. 

You would well like to know what I take for my 
Anything, madam, that comes in my way ; [pay. 
Pewter, brass buttons, sheepskins and horse-hair. 
And all the old rubbish a family can spare- 



THOMAS R, HOYT. 73 

I'Jl buy your corn, beans and buckwheat, 
Or anything else a tinman can eat ; 
Buy feetings, sheepskins and horse-hair. 
Or anything else a tinman can wear. 

Old Iron I want, pure copper and zinc, 
Or anything else that will rattle or chink ; 
Dried apples I want, old paper rags too, 
All the wool yarn that's dyed a deep blue. 

I buy your new butter and all your old cheese, 
Take all you Jiave, or as much as you please : 
I am an odd pedler, take sugar and honey, 
And it raises a smile if you pay me the money. 

'What's the price of this pan, sir, what do you ax? 
Three shillings apiece, I commonly tax; 
But I won't be hard while selling to you, 
And call it a trade if you pay me but two.' 

Here's a new baker, it is your's dear miss — 
Grant me a favor, a sweet, loving kiss, 
The bargain completed, no one questions why ; 
I'll remember you long, so dear madam, good bye. 

And now, to start off and muse on the throng, 
Slam down the old tin cart, crack up and go 'long, 
I deal with all classes, give each one a call. 
Believing a pedler the happiest of all. 

If we mortals look upon the big world, 

All is in confusion and all in a whirl. 

All is in tumult, commotions and strife, 

What pleasures and cares make up a inan's life ! 



74 POETICAL WORKS OF 

What we're all seekin^^y a Yankee can guess, 
The pearl of pure comfort and sweet happiness ; 
Great riches and honors, we want for our share, 
To be loved and respected, and a plenty of tin ware. 

If we look to the Lawyer, we plainly see 
His life is in quarrels to gain his own fee ; 
He'll shuffle and cheat, and even do worse, 
If there is a prospect of filling his purse. 

The Priest will puff up and pounce on his books, 
He thinks a great deal, vou may know, by his looks. 
Whether its the good of his flock or his own private 
That's in his mind most I leave you to say. [pay. 

The Pedagogue Teacher, pent up in his school. 
All that he does, he pretends is by rule, 
He oft cares not a whit whether they study or play, 
Can get over his time and pocket his pay. 

Doctors will ride in sulkvs and hacks, 
'Mongst the profession are a great many quacks, 
Not censure with blame, nor charge all with sin, 
For a good doctor is a valuable thing. 

Mechanics I love, they do us much good. 
Who work the fine metals and also in wood, 
Tho' they meet with troubles, I'm sorry to say, 
And customers, careless, forget when to pay. 

The Yankee Farmer with houses and lands. 
Great love and respect he always commands,* 
Yes, the noble farmer, I vow and declare, 
vStands next to the Pedler who sells out tin ware. 



I 



THOMAS R. HOYT. 75 

To enfoy sweet quiet, take peace of my life, 
I shun all the broils of political strife, 
To gain real profit, by such labor, is all fudge, 
It costs all it comes to, if I'm any judge. 

Now look at the Pedler, how open and free, 
Is lively and jovial, can join in a spree — 
At home in all places, all people his friends. 
What an envious station the Pedler commands! 



A SOLILOQUY, 



Come up, my son, come hear my lays- 

A lesson good for all your days. 

Be just, be honest — you cannot fall, 

For God upholds and governs all. 

I come, a Herald stored with rhymes. 

To tell of men and the times : 

To foster right, suppress the wrong. 

Shall be the burden of my song. 

The world it is a real stage — 
The king is actor with the page : 
We are progressing, can't go back. 
Each has a certain part to act. 
Times are changed since long ago ; 
They daily change, you'll find it so. 
Time's steady course you cannot stay 
Nor add nor take from it a day. 



76 POETICAL WORKS OF 

We'll let the Priest come up the first ; 
To tell the truth you know he must — 
Speak Love and Justice, to begin 
To free the world from wicked sin. 
He should be faithful, should be true. 
And all the works of goodness do ; 
His work well done — O what a task ! 
A monument that would long last. 

There's Preachers 'round most everywhere- 
What they teach they don't much care, 
It's what I hear the people say, 
They care the most to get their pay. 
The world's corrupt and full of sin, 
See, my son, humbugs come in ; 
Truth comes in time and lays them low 
Until another batch can grow. 

The Doctors, they I cannot pass ; 
If they are good, O what a class ! 
Blessings they to all men given, 
Greatest treasure under Heaven. 
There a set of men called quack — 
What they should know they always lack, 
And what they do is often wrong ; 
Deceiving Guides, pass them along. 

Here comes the Lawyer with his quill ; 
He wants your mone}^ — where's your bill ? 
If men were wise and well agreed. 
This kind of man we shouldn't need. 



THOMAS U. IIOYT. 77 

The world is coy and full of sin ; 
Then again we call him in 
To get our debts — I hear men say 
He is quite useful every day. 

The Politician with his note 
Will point you out the way to vote ; 
He deals in flattery and abuse, 
And hopes to turn them to his use. 
The true patriot who loves his land. 
Will use the power he can command, 
Build up the State to live in peace, 
And her best interests to increase. 

The Statesman for good laws contends, 
And to such views we say Amen ; 
If all would do the best they know, 
O what a kingdom here below ! 
Support the State with honest care, 
Give each and every man his share, 
Let right and reason lead the way, 
The path is plain — heed what I say. 

The Editor with tales and news 
Labors hard to give his views ; 
He'll change around, you'll often find, 
If he should have an axe to grind 
But then, again, I think we should 
Credit him with doing good ; 
He gives us all much print to read — 
This kind of folks we surely need. 



78 POETICAL WORKS OF 

The Farmer, with his house and lands, 
Our choicest wishes he commands ; 
What nobler lord can there be found 
Than he who plows and tills the ground? 
His mind is happy, pure and free, 
His course is honored — all agree ; 
His days and years are spent in mirth. 
The happiest being here on earth. 

Mechanics come, with cheerful face. 

This lovely world of life to grace ; 

His mind well stored with plans and skill, 

A noble circle he must fill. 

He works the metals and the wood. 

And makes us things that we call good ; 

O, what a blessing, we should say, 

We use his works — yes, every day. 

The noble Sailor plows the main. 
And risks his all in hope of gain ; 
His home it is upon the seas, 
A roving life of toil and ease. 
The Angler, with his rod and hook. 
Treads the sides of every brook ; 
It is his hope, his highest wish, 
To fill his sack with shining fish. 
The Speculator is seen about — 
A kind offish we could do without ; 
He swims in waters high and low, 
And how he stands I hardlv know. 



THOMAS R. HOVT. 79 

Then there is the drunken Sot, 
A character I'd 'most forgot ; 
He adds no beauty to my song — 
Of small account — pass him along. 

The Poet rich in shades and hues, 
Gives the world his choicest views ; 
If he is honest and renowned, 
His brow with laurels will be crowned. 
Flere comes at last the honest man, 
God bless his soul, how good his plan ; 
To live the golden rule of right, 
To make us happy, wish he might. 

What a world in this we live ! 
We're taught the lesson to forgive ; 
How varied are our plans and views, 
And each a different road pursues. 
Some are rich and some are poor, 
And some are beggars at your door ; 
All is excitement — all is strite — 
Which shows the checkered scenes of life. 

Those who build their castles high, 
Whose towering heads point to the sky — 
With goods and stores and health abound— 
It is not here content is found. 
. The humble peasant rears his cot, 
He is thrice happy with his lot ; 
His mind is stored and full of joy — 
Sweet happiness, without alloy. 



So POETICAL WORKS OF 

The Ladies fair come to our aid — 
The richest pearls that God has made 
We give to them our heart and hand, 
And that respect they do command, 
All is right in God's own plan ; 
We cannot see — dark erring man — 
His all-wise purpose from above ; 
Above us all — infinite love, . 



MANCHESTER. 



Ho ! Manchester^ I come to sing^, 
A few remarks I here would make, 

A tribute to her name would bring. 
The largest city in the State. 

Old "Amoskeag" that Indian name 
For the Falls and all around : 

Here the red-man chased his game. 
Once his home and fishing ground. 

Later years the white man came 
And settled on this bank of sand ; 

Plenty had of fish and game. 

Farmers would choose better land. 

Some dozen dwellings, perhaps less, 
All could be counted on this range ; 

Rude and novel I should guess. 
All around looked very strange. 



THOMAS R. HOYT. Si 

Should we look back some fifty years, 

This little spot a sandy waste. 
Altered now, the scene appears, 

A city large of wealth and taste. 
This town was once old Derryfield, 

Men and times were different then ; 
This land produced a scanty yield, 

Though here lived some worthy men. 
This city fair^ we love to view. 

And note the splendid works of man. 
Here a town built up all new, 

With buildings many rich and grand. 
Proud Merrimac with waters clear, 

Rolls down the path it long hath trod ; 
Whittier seems to hold thee dear. 

And almost rank thee as a god. 

A noble river sure thou art, 

And Manchester owes all to thee ; 
Without thy aid few mills would start, 

On this spot of industry. 
Oece idly thou run o'er the ground, 

Flowing freely from the north ; 
Thy waters turn the wheels around, 

Helping to make a world of cloth. 
Mechanics came with care and skill, 

Built these mills and mansions too. 
Cut down the banks and made a fill, 

Built these streets where people go« 
l6) 



POETICAL WORKS OF 



Here is tlie hum of indus'.ry. 

We love to catch the pleasing sounds 
A welcome note for you and me — 

A blessing to the country *round. 

The stores are thickly planted here, 
Filled with goods of every grade. 

Some sell cheap and others dear, 
This is a lively place of trade. 

Lavs'vers and Doctors crowded in, 

And Priests a plenty Vou should know, 

Warning the people of their sin, 
And pointing out the path to go. 

The Printers here are wide awake. 
Throwing off tfieir sheets of news ; 

Industrious are, and no mistake. 

Giving us their thoughts and \iews.- 

Here is the rich and here is the poor, 
The virtuous and the man of sin ; 

M\' tale is told, will say no more. 
Tvpe of the world that we live in. 



WEALTH. 
Things arc ordered and are such 
It is no viitue to be rich ; 
We see it so can add this more. 
It is no sin to be poor. 
But *Samson says, and with much truths 
*.See his Avorks on the ways of Man. 



THOMAS R. HOYl\ 83 

• 'Wealth is the clouded care of yoLitli," 
And also adds on the same page, 
"•The supporting staff of age." 

We want wealth, none to boast, 
It's not the rich enjoys the most; 
We find mor-e joy among the poor, 
VV^ho have but little for their store ; 
A man who is deeply in debt. 
Is heard to grumble and to fret, 
He may be generous and be brave, 
Shows he's little other than a slave. 

It is our duty, all -should try 
In youth to lay up something by, 
To aid us in declining years. 
And keep us tree of debts and fears. 
•'Goodness shines on all creation, 
From the Heavens to the sod. 
Let man be happy in his station. 
Living on the love of God." 



A VIEW OP' MAN. 

The world teems full of deception. 
How willing is man to deceive ; 

He shows short on full inspection. 
And what is there he won't believe? 

He oft believes as he is taught, 
No matter if it is not true, 



S4 POETICAL WORKS OF 

Can. swallow all Religions wrought^ 
A Pope, a Pagan, Priest or Jew. 

Adverse opinions fill the air, 

How many views before our sight. 

It is lo, here, it is lo, there. 

And which are we to fudge is right? 

Some believe this^ and others that, 
Eternal truth will stand the same ; 

For no belief can change the fact, 

Throng}"! all the coming days of time, 

Where shall we rest, in whom confide, 
To lead us in the better way? 

Shall we take reason for our guide, 
Or blindly believe what others say? 

Let us search with light and reason, 
Try all the truth and right to know, 

We should look in time and season, 
vSee for ourselves if things be so. 

The light of Freedom now is dawning, 
Breaking the bands that bound the mind. 

Popes and priests mav take their warning, 
They and their works must fall behind. 

Long have they enslaved the mind, 
But with the past have had their day ; 

The noble mind no longer bind, 

She's burst her bonds and gone her way- 



THOMAS R. HOYT. S^ 

Left priests contending for their creetls. 
That are fast crumbhng to cleca\' ; 

Shall we not judge men by their deeds, 
For sure there is no better wav. 

We hope to see great man improving, 

Acting upright in all his ways, 
In true reforms be up and doing. 

Performing good through all his days. 



AGRICOLUS, THE WANDERING FARMER, 

The Poet here assumes his task, 
A Poem he thinks he hears you ask ; 
Can he talk more fine or charming, 
Then tell of farmers and of farming. 
Now to begin, suppose we must, 
Count old Adam about the first. 
To cultivate and work the land. 
And trim his trees with careful hand. 

His garden large, almost a farm. 
Thought to possess an extra charm ; 
The land so rich and very new, 
He had but little work to do. 
This was a land if I am right, 
Where a man could take delight. 
The trees bore that kind of fruit, 
The appetite did seem to suit. 



86 POETICAL WORKS OF 

How well he did I cannot say, 
He did not manage long to stay, 
But most his trouble and his strife. 
Said to be owing to his wife. 
How he came on in after years^ 
Was verv well 1 think appears^ 
Plenty of land and taxes light, 
It is supposed he came out right. 

Farming is healthy we are told, 
And Adam lived to be quite old ; 
As by the record it appears, 
Lived some over eight hundred years. 
We might as welly perhaps 'tis best, 
To let this early farmer rest ; 
Bring down our talk to later date. 
And tell of farming in our State. 

We've farmers good and farmers poor. 
Know what they are told, sometimes more ; 
Some tarm it right and some excel, 
Some in a way that's hard to tell. 
There's farmer White, his mind is sound. 
Kind to his neighbors all around, 
Heeds not the smile or frown of kings. 
But independent in most things, 

Good farm and tools at his command. 
Does rightly cultivate the land ; 
Little depends on other folks, 
To tend his stock or grow his crops. 



THOMAS R. IIOYT. 87 

His labor brings him joy and health. 
Is daily adding to his wealth. 
He has enough, what he lias more. 
Oft distributes to the poor. 

We look again, see farmer Brown, 
Qiiite a different man in town ; 
He has so much to tell and say. 
Can only farm in a shiftless way. 
His work behind all seems to drive, 
It is no secret he don't thrive, 
We could see this and even more. 
Don't love to work and he is poor. 

We see a class still lower down, 
Scattered some in every town, 
A gaming, lazy, idle class, 
Of small account, we'll let them pass; 
The farming North of now-a-days, 
Looks a work that lightly pays ; 
Man's living and taxes on the farm, 
Takes nearly all that he can earn. 

One thing I would bring up to view, 
Our land much worn and far from new, 
Does not possess that virgin soil. 
To grow large crops with little toil. 
Farming now-a-days is such, 
See very few that do grow rich. 
The outs exceed the net incomes, 
Those make it pa}' are lucky ones. 



88 POETICAL WORKS OF 

Business controlled by clubs and rings» 
Sorry to see this state of things. 
I wish the farmer full success, 
And Heaven ail his efforts bless. 
These farms deserted look forlorn. 
Men moved off, their beauty gone. 
Lands show poor, buildings decay. 
Which predicates a sorry day. 

Not paint the picture dark forsooth, 
But I must not evade the truth. 
Show things plainly as they are, 
Or you would say I was unfair. 
Farmers a worthy class indeed, 
Just the folks we mostly need. 
We use their products every day, 
And without them how could we stay? 

Go on, go on, with noble soul, 
The farmers sure support the whole ; 
These honoured kings I should here state. 
Rank first among the good and great. 
Let cheerful labor with her charms, 
Be the sweet music of the farms, 
And industry upon your creed. 
With heaven's blessing will succeed. 

Now to wind up 1 here would say, 
We all look for a brighter day, 
May blessings rich, thick on us flow, 
As on the path of life we go. 



THOMAS R. HOYT. 89 

THE LITTLE BOY. 

So here I come, a little boy, 

Beginning to act, a few years old, 

Seeking to find the path of joy, 

Full with pleasures, wealth and gold. 

Some one tells me I should do this, 

Another says, that is not right ; 
The next one adds, you'll surely miss, 

So many ways that blind my sight. 

However, I must act some way, 

And the best way how should I know, 

I cannot mind all others say, 

Perplexing looks the path to go. 

But I will try and act my mind, 

What that is I hardly know, 
I would not wish to be confined, 

Too much in what I say and do. 

I see I need to go to school. 

To train my mind as others do ; 
I do not wish to be a fool, 

O let me learn the same as you. 

Our hero bold with pleasant look, 
Has made his mind to be a man, 

Hies to the school with slate and book. 
To be a scholar if he can. 



90 POETICAL WOrvKS OF 

He goes to school a term or two, 
Head of his class he leads the van, 

The useful studies has gone through. 
And now assumes the cogno man. 

VVe find him next upon a farm. 

That his friends have helped to. 
This has for him a lovely charm, 

This the work he will pursue. 

He labors well with careful hand, 

All full of spirit, joy and life, 
Love and respect he does command — 

He seems to think he needs a wife. 

A partner of his joys and care. 

To aid him in his daily toil, 
And with him life's blessings share. 

As he improves and works the soil. 

That prize of worth he now has found, 
To Betsey fair he gives his hand ; 

His friends are many, all around 

His home and farm shows rich and grand. 

Life's varied round they now pursue. 
Are daily adding to their wealth. 

What lovelier scene for me or you, 
All moves in harmony and health. 

We now have traced the little boy, 
From early childhood up to man, 

Some good should learn and here enjoy, 
If strive to do the best we can. 



THOMAS R. HOYT. 9 1 

Success flows from the path of right, 

Rich blessings crown the great and good, 

Truth makes our lives show clear and bright^ 
If act our PART as here we should. 



MUSINGS. 
I am joyful and delighted, 

Studying nature's book of God, 
The volume large and variegated. 

Full of pages rich and broad. 

The loaded trees tell his goodness, 
The smallest plant his wisdom shows. 

The earth teems with life and fulness. 
In harmony all nature goes. 

The falling leaf teaches all a lesson. 
Which is well fur man to know, 

To the earth all seems to hasten, 
In this changing world below. 

Sing your praises in good humor. 
To the great Author of all good. 

Let your soul with love flow over. 
Feeling thankful as we should. 



THE AGED MAN. 

I come to sing the aged man, 

Full of thoughts and full of cares. 

His years outnumber three score ten. 
As calm and cheerful he appears. 



92 POETICAL WORKS OF 

Seen much the world, its many ways, 
While acting out the play of life. 

Looks back with pleasure to those days, 
Full of excitement, joy and strife. 

The many scenes and acts gone by, 
Retraces them with fulsome joy, 

They fire his soul, light up his eye. 
Musing on days when he's a bo\ . 

Notes the passing days of pleasure, 
Looking on the long gone past, 

Time sped on at a slow measure, 
Now the days fly swift and fast. 

Reviewing acts that are past and gone, 

Thinks he sees moves he should have made, 

While other works if left undone, 

Would placed him in a higher grade. 

He had a part that he must act. 
Could not go by or leave undone. 

Time, onward moving can't go back. 
Deals out her moments one by one. 

His youthful days, he holds them fast. 
Asks for what purpose was I made. 

To fill a space, perform, a task. 
The hidden future can't pervade. 

Man cannot go a perfect round. 

Must tread the checkered road of life, ^ 

Perfection here cannot be found, 

His path is strewn with joy and strife. 



THOMAS R. HOYT. 



93 



Yea, when his time on earth is up, 
And all his earthly tasks are done, 

Let joy and hope fill full his cup — 
Great Nature calls and he is ^one. 



PAST HISTORY OF MAN. 

We read history for instruction, 

And in its lines its pages show, 
Man has been busy in destruction. 

Fighting his friend and neighbor too. 
Brutal force he rated highest, 

Slay and destroy looked his aim, 
To increase his power by conquest, 

To crush his neighbor — calls it fame. 
As we look back on man's history, 

Many his days seem spent in wars, 
His actions look to us a mystery. 

Calls it he fights for faith and laws. 
And is this all for what he fights? 

Yea, other things I here should tell : 
To rob his brother of his rights, 

To feed his pride and have his will. 
Passion calls this brute a hero, 

Who would the most destroy and slay. 
Read the tales of wicked Nero, 

Thou read the actions of that day. 
Let us hope those times are past, 

Nevermore to this earth return. 



94 POETICAL WORKS OF 

Such days and times should shortly last, 

Man should a wiser lesson learn. 
Let him throw down his spear and sword, 

Low on the trround to rot and rust, 
Go heed the teachinf(s of our Lord, 

In God above put all his trust. 
O let him live a life of peace, 

Here acting nobly as he should. 
Let all his works of love increase, 

Show man a he'xng ^reat and good. 



OCTOBER. 

The Bard would sing of sweet October, 
Most pleasant month of all the year, 

With fruits and pleasures flowing over, 
Delightful doth the scene appear. 

Here she comes, the type of beauty, 
Her bowl is loaded to the brim, 

Awake, O man to life and duty, 
Her golden fruits to gather in. 

This a work of real pleasure. 

Collecting in the season's yield. 
Adding to our health and treasure, 

A scene of joy we can but feel. 

Seethe landscape, how inviting. 
Fruit trees bending to the ground, 

This a season all dehght in, 

All hail with joy the harvest sound. 

Her many clear and sunny days, 
From early morn to latest eve, 

Should fill us with a song of praise. 
For the rich blessings we receive. 



THOMAS K. HOYT. 95 

INDEX. 

Page. 

4 

Proem '..!*.'..*.*. ^ 

Moi-ning 5 

California ..'.'.'.V.'.'.'. ^ 

Long as'O ^*/.' ^ 

The Seasons .*.'..*.*.* 8 

Musings • V • • • • • • .7 *.V ^^ 

David Dandy's Ricle Out "• V2 

Pleasant Scenes • ••. 13 

Take Care, or Grandpas Advice j^ 

Ode to the Ocean • • • • • ' " 16 

Lines on the Nevv ^ ear, lb/ y • • • * -^q 

Happiness - * 17 

Home 18 

War ;;: V :' ■ ;; 'iV !/ * " 20 

gaI'a^-o?T;>e:;'^o,Y'i:'c:^?n'luVD;.V.-of-A;;u, Lang S.ne || 

Thanksgiving Day ■"'"•''"''' 26 

Moll Dorv, or How He Won Her 29 

Piscataquog Valley Fair **'.*.*'.* 33 

Autumn • • • • • • • • //. 34 

Mythelor, or the Mission oi Man ^ ^ ^ ^- 

Fred Farlo, the Farmer's Boy ^ ^ ^ ^y 

liueller, the Esquire's Son '!'.'.*.*.. 50 

Neighbors of the Lowlands 53 

Okf Miss Rachel !'.*.'.*.... 55 

A School '\ 59 

Christmas 60 

Adam and the Apple 61 

The Writing Pen 63 

Old Times 64 

Newsboy's Address . . . . ••;••; 66 

New Years Address For^l842 gg 

New Year's Address 1843 ^ ^q 

The Tin Pedler of Olden Time '.'."*.'*!'.'.*... 75 

A Soliloquy *.*.'.*.'.'.!!'..*!*.'. 80 

Mauchester ' 82 

Wealth .**.!*..... 83 

A View oi Man .•••• 85 

Agricolus, the Wandering i armer ^ gg 

The Little Boy .V.V. '.'.*.*.*!'.* *.'.*.. 91 

Musings \ 91 

The Aged Man 93 

Past History of Man *.!*.*****.*.*.*.*.'.* 94 

October 



^ 



